New Year’s Day Pilgrimage to the Top

New Zealand
By Esther Paddon

“It may cause a divorce when we get home?”

I smiled as I read the words written in jest in the visitors’ book, in the hut at the summit of Little Mt. Peel.

It was 9 a.m. on New Year’s Day. I had reached the top of the mountain, keeping up my own personal and traditional way of welcoming in the New Year. For many years this moderate climb has been my ‘New Year’s challenge. Reaching the top is all part of my keeping young ego booster!

This year I didn’t feel quite up to the challenge. Three months ago, when I came back from overseas, I was feeling very fit. I had walked many miles and climbed into the hills and mountains of Switzerland and Norway so now Mt. Peel should have been like a Sunday stroll. However, since then I had been stuck behind a desk, any fitness program had been channelled into brain power rather than muscle strength. Would I make the top this year? I didn’t doubt that top part, but would I be much slower?

The whole point of the exercise is to reach the top: it is not a race. However, I must admit for me, part the challenge includes reaching the top in a couple of hours, while having time to pause for the odd photo and admire and absorb the view from each succeeding vantage point. Somehow the time factor is related to age: slowing down is an admission that age is catching up with you.

Mt. Peel is a great walk for young or old. While it has a certain degree of difficulty – some parts are relatively steep and breath-catching – it is well within the range of anyone who is averagely fit. On reaching the top I met this family of five who had walked up the previous day and stayed overnight at the hut. The hut is basic shelter only. There is small wooden table at one end with a board seat on either side that is wide enough to sleep on. The family was just about to make their descent. Dad, mum and the three children aged 7, 10 and 12. They all had back-packs, even the seven-year old had a small pack on her back. It was dad’s idea of a great way to celebrate the end of the old, and the start of a new year. I think the seven-year-old had required a little encouragement to make the final ascent, hence the flippant remark I read in the visitors’ book. But along with the other children she had made it.

I had left the car park at Blandswood, about 7.00 a.m. At this time of the year it is advisable to make an early start before it gets too hot on the upward way. Also, from my experience, the morning is the best part of the day for visibility. It was pleasant and warm, but cloudy. Later on the sun struggled through for short periods but I was thankful for the clouds that made for perfect climbing conditions. For the first half-hour the track was through native bush where the undergrowth was a thick carpet of ferns and mosses. Above the dense mat of green, tree ferns raised their proud heads of fresh green fronds, while some still had tiny curled up, brown, velvety centres, waiting to burst open. Above, a canopy of leafy foliage from the tall, straight trees shaded the path and shut out any noise from the outside world. An added benefit of an early morning walk was the birdsong. While I could not distinguish all the birds from their sounds, I could easily pick out the bellbird with its clear, musical, bell-like song. Also through the bush, I had the company of friendly little fantails that fluttered and hovered close by the path. I felt sure they were saying “this is a wonderful forest, you are most welcome.”

This was the first time for a long while that I have been up the track in such perfect conditions. There were only a few muddy spots while the rest of the track had just a suspicion of dampness. All praise must go to the DOC staff who had recently cut back over-hanging grasses and tussocks. If the day had been damp, or even if there was heavy morning dew, it can cause plants to hang across the path. But this time any likely hindrances had been cleared or cut. Thanks DOC. No wet shorts or scratched legs for me this year.

After about a half-hour’s walk, you come out of the dense bush and into more scrubby and shorter bushed ridges. This year the Manuka was covered in white flower while the tussocks with their soft green fragile seed heads, caught the slightest movement of breeze. Mountain daisies lifted their heads of sparkling white above their grey furry foliage proclaiming and defending their rightful territory. The higher I went, the daisy flowers appeared to be smaller in size. I thought this made sense as it would be more difficult for them to survive in more exposed conditions. But when I reached the summit, the daisies there were flowering in profusion. They had the biggest daisy faces I had seen, so my earlier thinking was entirely flawed!

The path is clearly defined with steps and board-walks higher up. Most steps are easy but one or two seemed higher than last time, or maybe I am just shrinking a little. The board-walks are a great help. In places they are like a series of small platforms. In other parts they take off on a gradual slope where they consist of two flat boards and then one board on its side making convenient footholds so that you don’t slip. There were three longish continuous boardwalks and I counted about 450 such steps all up. The board-walks were an even greater benefit on the way down.

The views as you walk are ever changing. This time the scene was very hazy, fading into foggy cloud in the distance. Looking down you could see paddocks in muted greens to browns, with the Rangatata a winding ribbon of water breaking up the patchwork. Looking up, there was ridge after ridge of mountains petering down to the plains below. I never knew there could be so many shades of blue and green that all blended to make a picture so pleasing to the eye. Close by the track were outcrops of rock with dark red, white and grey-green mosses growing on them. Those rocks would look fantastic in my garden.

I was fortunate because as I went along the higher ridges as a slight wind fanned a cooling breeze across my path. Yes, a walk in perfect conditions. When I reached the top the breeze disappeared. All was calm. Not a movement. Not a sound, well hardly, only the odd fly that buzzed around, yes, even flies can find their way to the top of a mountain! Did you realise that flies have their own distinctive buzzes? As I sat and absorbed the beauty and considered the old year I thought perhaps we too are a little like flies. We buzz about a lot and some of us make a lot of noise about it. But the louder the noise doesn’t mean we are more important or accomplish more.

I stayed a while on the top. It was so peaceful and pleasant. Even though it was hazy the view was magnificent. What better way to contemplate what the New Year may have to offer? I am one of those people that do make New Year resolutions and I have to admit that when I review them at the end of the year, I have only succeeded in attaining a few. But reflections on the past year, with its short-comings, can help put your life into perspective and motivate you to make fresh aims and new goals for the coming year.

As I walked down the mountain I thought of the family I had met. What wise parents to teach their children a love of nature and physical activity. What greater grounding to a life where accomplishment doesn’t happen by itself. Like walking up Little Mt. Peel, it requires stamina and perseverance.

Before leaving Peel Forest I went to visit the little Church of the Holy Innocents at Mt Peel. I had missed the service but I still went in and sat down. The church is always open and is a place of tranquil peace and beauty. While the mountain top it is an easy place to reflect on the God of the universe, for those who can’t make the mountain top, a visit to the church offers a great option.